West ducks his head, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He digs his spoon into the bowl and comes away with a large bite.
“If you did this to prove to me that Tucson is better than New York…” I trail off, unsure how to end my sentence.
He leans a hip against the counter’s edge. “Why would I need to do that?” He closes his lips indecently around a large spoonful.
Blood rushes feverishly to my cheeks, and I have to look away. “It’s no contest.”
“I agree.”
I drag my spoon through the ice cream to avoid looking at him. “I haven’t been back since graduation—” I wince at my own mistake and push forward, hoping he doesn’t notice. “This city feels like another lifetime. I don’t know how you can live here without constant reminders.” My face flushes again, and I wonder why I’m dancing so close to topics I’d rather avoid.
“Who says I do?”
My eyes snap up to his, andoh no, have we been this close this whole time? He’s leaning sideways against the edge of the counter I’m sitting on, his body fully turned to face me, and his hips are inches from my crossed knees. I swallow and see his eyes track the movement. My eyes fall to his lips, a spoon dangling loosely from them, then his hands. His fingers rest on the counter, dangerously close to my thighs. We’re not touching, but I’ve never been soawareof not touching someone. The absence of it is nearly corporeal.
As if reading my thoughts, West pushes away. He takes the empty bowl and holds it up expectantly. I blink at him. He reaches across my lap to gently pry the spoon from my clenched fist before turning around, and I watch the muscles under his shirt stretch and tighten as he washes the dishes.
When all traces of us have been erased, West dries his hands on his jeans and turns to face me once again. “Time to get you home for real.”
With proper breathing air between us now, I can think clearly. “I’ll go alone. I’m totally sobered up, and I could walk that route with my eyes closed.”
“You think so?” He rakes an unsure hand through his curls, and I realize he’s torn. He wants to be a gentleman, but he’ll let me leave if I don’t want him around.
“Maybe not. I’ve forgotten some things.” I surprise myself with the lie. As hard as I’ve tried to forget, this campus is spilled across my memory like permanent ink. Even with the vast benevolence of thirty-six inches of space in which to make good decisions, I don’t want to walk home alone.
West narrows his eyes, curiosity warring with doubt. “I bet you didn’t forget the library,” he says.
I remember hands in my hair. My spine against a bookshelf. His tongue on my neck.
A beat passes. “Because you were always writing,” he adds.
“Not always,” I protest.
“You were single-minded.”
“I was fun!”
The lines around his eyes crinkle when he laughs. I like it more than I should. “You know you’re fun when you have to say it out loud.”
I childishly kick my feet in annoyance, knocking them back against the shelves, sending a metal bowl clattering to the floor. I lean forward, but West touches me just above the knee, wordlessly stilling my movement.
The sensation registers between my thighs.
A bad idea, this dress.It’s tricked my libido into thinking this is a date.
He bends down and returns the bowl to its place, and when he stands up, he’s positioned between my knees. My dress is criminally short. If I move closer, he’d be between my bare thighs. A bolt of repressed heat shoots through me.
His eyes are intense as they sweep over my face. They trace the outline of my mouth before dipping lower and then back up again. If he’s as surprised as I am, it doesn’t show.
There’s a cacophony happening inside me. All the warning bells are blaring: a five-alarm fire. Without permission from my brain, my body inches toward him. His hands relax heavily on my upper thighs, his fingertips lightly brushing the hem of my dress.
I nearly stop breathing. His expression is so clear I can practically hear him.
Your move, Darling.
I glance down and see a hard swell against his jeans. Heat blooms in my belly and spreads out. Into my chest, making it burn. Below my waist, making me ache. I’m jittery and nervous and lightheaded. If he weren’t pinning me to this counter, who knows what I would have done by now. Hooked my leg around his. Slid myself to the edge of the counter until I felt him pressed against my inner thighs. My thoughts run wild, and I fear that they’re all over my face.
West’s throat works, his gaze as steady as his hands. I can feel him inside my head. He knows exactly what I want.
